Chapter 12
STONE
Iwake with Josie in my arms and fuck if she doesn’t feel incredible pressed against me.
She’s still asleep, her face soft in the early morning light, one hand curled against my chest. The borrowed t-shirt has ridden up during the night, exposing a strip of skin at her hip that I ache to touch. But I don’t want to wake her. Not yet. Not when I can just lie here and watch her breathe.
This is dangerous.
I know it is. This woman—with her sharp tongue and soft heart and absolute refusal to be intimidated—has knocked down every wall without even trying.
She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and when she sees me watching her, she smiles.
“Stop being creepy,” she murmurs.
“I prefer ‘devoted.’”
“Tomato, tomahto.” She stretches, wincing slightly when the movement pulls at her ribs. “What time is it?”
“Early. Go back to sleep.”
“Can’t.” She’s more awake now, her lawyer brain clearly coming online. “Things to do. Cases to review. Cartels to take down.”
“The cartel can wait.”
“Can it, though?” She pushes herself up on her good elbow, meeting my eyes. “Stone. We’ve been in a holding pattern for three weeks. Summit’s still out there. The attack on me proved they’re willing to escalate. We need to move.”
She’s right. I hate that she’s right.
“Steel’s been working on cracking their warehouse security.”
She glares. “And you were going to tell me this when?”
“When you weren’t recovering from a brain injury.”
“My brain is fine.” She taps her temple with her casted hand. “A little rattled, maybe, but fully operational. I want to help. Let me help, Boone.”
The use of my real name still hits me somewhere deep. She only uses it in intimate moments—and apparently when she’s trying to get her way.
“Fine.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Church is at ten. I’ll fill you in after.”
“Why not during?”
“Because you’re not a member.”
“I’m your lawyer.”
“Who’s currently on medical leave.”
She glares at me, but there’s no real heat in it. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
I snort. “You mean I’m lucky I gave you orgasms.”
She spreads her legs. “You’d be luckier if you did it again.”
“Well, who could refuse such a tempting offer?”
An hour later I finally roll out of bed, leaving a sweaty, smiling Josie behind.
Church is tense.
Steel stands at the head of the table, laptop open, walking us through what he’s found.
The kid’s come a long way from the nervous prospect who could barely make eye contact.
He’s a big guy—the kind of big that makes drunk idiots think twice, though the beard and glasses soften the effect.
I’ve seen him let Hawk’s twins braid tinsel into his hair without complaint, but I’ve also seen him on the range.
Kid shoots like he was born with a rifle in his hands.
Now he holds the room’s attention like he was born to that, too.
“I managed to crack their security feeds,” he explains, turning the laptop so everyone can see. “They’re running a drug processing operation out of the old textile warehouse on Route 9. But that’s not the interesting part.”
He pulls up another image—grainy surveillance footage of two men talking in what looks like an office.
“The guy on the left is Ivan. We already knew he was their muscle. But the guy on the right?” Steel zooms in on a face I recognize far too well. Every muscle in my body locks.
Fuck.
“Vincent Caruso,” Steel confirms. The man we handed to the FBI on a silver platter months ago.
“How the hell is he still walking around?” Hawk’s voice is tight with disbelief.
“Good question.” Steel shakes his head. “Either the feds fumbled the case, or Caruso’s got friends in higher places than we thought.”
The room goes silent.
“Fuck,” Tank mutters.
“This changes things,” Lee says. “We’re dealing with people who have the resources to make us all disappear.”
“Which is why we need to be smart about this.” I lean forward, studying the footage. “Steel, how solid is this evidence?”
“Solid enough for a federal case. I’ve got timestamps, facial recognition matches, even some audio. They’re not exactly careful when they think no one’s watching.”
My hands curl into fists against my thighs. We’d already given the local feds everything—the footage, evidence of Vincent paying off cops, the whole goddamn conspiracy. And this bastard is still walking on my turf.
Fuck that.
“We need to get this to the right hands ASAP.” I think of Josie, still upstairs, probably already reviewing case files despite my orders to rest.
“You want Josie to add it to her file?” Lee asks, reading my mind.
I hesitate.
“We’ll need to be careful if Caruso has guys on the inside of the bureau,” Hawk warns.
That’s what I’m afraid of. But letting this guy slip through our fingers isn’t an option.
“Josie’s still got contacts from her Atlanta days. People she trusts. If we can get this to the right people—”
“We end Summit and Caruso in one move,” Hawk finishes.
“I still think it’s a risky move, bringing in even more feds,” Tank points out. “They’re not exactly our biggest fans.”
“Neither is the cartel.” I stand, signaling the end of the meeting. “I’d rather deal with federal scrutiny than a bullet in the back of my head. Steel, get me everything you have. I’ll brief Josie this afternoon.”
The brothers file out, but Lee hangs back.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’ve got that look.” He crosses his arms. “The one you get when something’s eating at you.”
My son knows me too well.
“Just thinking about next steps.”
“Uh huh.” Lee doesn’t buy it for a second. “This about the club? Or about the woman upstairs?”
I should have known he’d call me on it. The whole damn club probably has bets going on how long I’d hold out. Fuckers.
“Both,” I admit.
“You love her.”
It’s not a question.
“Yeah. I do. How you feel about that?”
Lee studies me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiles.
“Good. It’s about time you let yourself have some good.”
“Lee—”
“I mean it, Dad.” He grips my shoulder. “You’ve been a ghost since Mom left. Going through the motions. Running the club. Raising us. But not really living. Mom moved on, it’s about time you did as well.”
I reach out, scuffing his hair. “Get out of here before I get sappy and hug you.”
He grins, clapping me on the shoulder as he goes.
He’s right, it is about time I move on. I just need to dismantle the cartel first.